season 1 | chapter 04

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WITH A HEAVY exhale, Lyla pressed her hand flat to the ground beneath her to lift herself

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WITH A HEAVY exhale, Lyla pressed her hand flat to the ground beneath her to lift herself.

"I want to go home," she said, her voice laced with exasperation. Her eyes travelled to the waves embracing the shore with their soft touch. A warm breeze pushed a few strands away from her damp cheeks. It was a sweet combination of the salty, sea air and the scent from the trees' leaves nearby.

Hilary nodded. "Come on. Let's get you out of here," she encouraged her.

With a hand on Lyla's back, they maneuvered their way through the crowd. The atmosphere of relaxation and carelessness the bonfires created along with their playful orange-yellowish tones of the light they emitted were the perfect definition of leaving all kind of worries behind for a night of razzle with friends.

It was a pity she lacked the mentality for it.

The bodies swaying to the rhythm of the upbeat music with zero grace were holding a generous amount of drinks on their hands. It was a sight that caused bile in Lyla's throat to rise. Her stomach clenched at the sheer idea of engaging into alcohol-related activities. It was a contrast that would've amused her to pieces, if she wasn't close to a meltdown.

She had to get out of there, fast.

The colorful chains of light above their heads had Hilary's nerves on edge. Stupid teens drowning their sorrows in alcohol, pretending to be happy for the sake of others had gathered in this stupid party. A simple bonfire would've been more than adequate, but no, the fools of their senior year wanted to go all out on this one.

They'd promised it would've been a blast, but all Hilary saw was crap. Then again, she couldn't have complained she anticipated anything better from filthy rich kids with non-existent brain cells.

As much as she despised the thought of him, the sight of him with the characteristic smirk of mischief etched on his face, she scanned her surroundings in hopes of spotting the idiotic Tyson Adams.

He was nowhere to be seen.

He walked with the pride of being Lyla's best friend. It was a reality Hilary was unable to comprehend how or why, but now that she needed him the most he was absent.

Hilary puffed out a breath of irritation. "Where's this idiot? I swear Tyson never misses an opportunity to make a fool out of himself, even when he's not around."

"I'm not going to call him," Lyla responded curtly, her head lowered. "Besides, he's not here."

"Of course he wouldn't be! He never is at the right place at the right time," Hilary continued, unbothered. Adams got to play with her strings of patience on a regular basis. Unlike him, she had the rationality to put his childish behavior aside for the sake of their mutual friend in between.

There was a truth she wasn't aware of. If Lyla wanted to save herself from another riot at Tyson's name she had to tell her. "His grandfather is at the hospital."

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